


Hope Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

by maiddressdraco



Series: The Magic and Misfortunes of Hope Lily Potter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Animal Death - mentioned, Black Hermione Granger, Body Dysphoria, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Crushes, Desi Harry Potter, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Ron Weasley, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parseltongue, Physical Abuse, Racism, Sexism, Slytherin Harry Potter, Soft Draco Malfoy, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiddressdraco/pseuds/maiddressdraco
Summary: Turning the envelope over with small, trembling hands, Hope saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, a raven, a badger and a snake surrounding a large, golden letter 'H'.Magic, Mystery, Mayhem! Hope Potter discovers she is a witch which starts her journey to become the best witch she possibly can. However, many trial and errors appear before her and the lurking threat of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, returning looms over her.  Hope Potter has a place at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry, join her on her adventure to find out what home truly feels like!A HARRY POTTER series rewrite.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin - mentioned
Series: The Magic and Misfortunes of Hope Lily Potter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136270
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Hope Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a HP series rewrite. I do not own nor claim to own Harry Potter or any of its characters. Some passages/descriptions may be similar to the book however, nothing will be exactly the same. The series will completely diverge from canon at BOOK 2 so please stick around! Also a warning, this series is going to get dark and serious really, really fast. Please read the tags. This work is currently in BETA and will be edited once the entire series is complete.
> 
> Find me on Twitter & Tumblr under the same username!

On the corner of an ordinary road, a man suddenly appeared. He was tall, thin and very old. A long, silver beard that reached his knees adorned his face and a violet cloak wrapped around his body loosely. A pointed, star-patterned hat of the same colour sat upon his head. The man’s light blue eyes twinkled like stars behind his half-moon spectacles. His nose was long and crooked and although it looked as though it had been broken twice, it complimented his face well. This strange man, seemingly unaware of how unwelcome he was on this  _ ordinary _ street, rummaged through the pockets of his long cloak. Whilst searching for a mysterious item, a stern looking tabby cat approached him. The cat creeped cautiously around the man’s legs until it sat in front of him. At last, the man pulled out what seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. As he flicked it open, he glanced down quickly and let out a huff of amusement. Looking back up, he clicked the lighter causing the nearest lamp post to lose it’s light with a quiet  _ pop _ . He clicked it again and the next lamp post also flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the small device until the only lights that remained surrounded the house marked with a sign reading “Number 4.” If anyone were to look out their window, they wouldn’t be able to see what was happening on the pavement below. With a satisfied smile, the man pocketed the lighter.

The man glanced down at the stern tabby cat again, the moonlight reflecting off his spectacles.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.”

The tabby cat stepped backwards and slowly transformed into a frowning woman. The woman - Professor McGonagall - wore square glasses that were strikingly similar to the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a long cloak although hers was emerald with a silver trim. Her black hair was pulled tightly into a bun that sat upon her head. She looked mildly ruffled.

“How did you know it was me?” She murmured, glancing around the dark street as though looking for something.

“I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly, my dear Professor. I must also point out cats have never been too fond of me”

“Yes, well, if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day you’d be rather stiff too.” she sniffed.

“All day? When you could’ve been celebrating? I must’ve passed a dozen or so feasts on my journey here.”

Professor McGonagall sniffed again, this time angrily. “Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, all right. You think they’d be a bit more careful, but no - even these Muggles-” she gestured angrily to the row of houses in front of them “-have noticed something’s going on. It was on their news, that house over there.” Professor McGonagall pointed to the only house that was illuminated by the lamp-posts. “I heard it. Flock of owls.. Shooting stars down in Kent - I’ll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. They’re not completely stupid, the muggles, they were bound to notice sooner or later.”

“You can’t blame them.” the man said gently, a shadow passed over his face, highlighting the creases below his eyes and around his mouth “We’ve had little to celebrate for these past eleven years.”

“I know that.” McGonagall huffed, irritated “But that’s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright irresponsible. Out on the streets in broad daylight, brandishing their wands, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.” She threw a sharp, side-ways glance at the man next to her before exhaling shakily. She continued: “A fine thing it would be if, on the day You-Know-who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all.” She paused for breath. “I suppose he really  _ has  _ gone, Dumbledore?”

“It certainly seems so,” the man, Dumbledore, said “We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a Sherbet Lemon?”

“ _ What? _ ”

“A Sherbet Lemon. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’ve become fond of recently.”

“No, thank you.” Professor McGonagall watched as Dumbledore popped a  _ Sherbet Lemon  _ into his mouth “As I say, even if You-Know-Who  _ has _ gone-”

“My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense is terribly confusing. I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name:  _ Voldemort _ -” McGongall flinched “-for eleven years now. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort’s name.”

“I know you haven’t,” McGonagall said, sounding exasperated. “That’s because you’re the only one You-Know-Who-” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “-oh, all right  _ Voldemort  _ is afraid of.”

“You flatter me too much.” Dumbledore murmured, sounding far too amused. “Voldemort has powers I will never have.”

“Only because you’re too  _ noble _ to use them.”

“It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.”

McGonagall sighed gently “The owls are nothing to the  _ rumours _ that are flying around. Do you know what everyone’s saying? About why’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?”

Dumbledore turned and looked at McGonagall. Anxiety swam in her dull, green eyes. McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the reason why she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day. For neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. Dumbledore plucked another Sherbet Lemon out of his pocket and did not answer.

“What the rumours are  _ saying _ ,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort appeared in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they’re  _ dead _ .”

Dumbledore bowed his head, turning away from McGonagall. She gasped. “Oh Lily and James… I can’t believe it… I didn’t want to believe it… Oh, Albus…”

Dumbledore reached into his pockets, silently, and pulled out a maroon handkerchief; decorated with gold flakes and multiple roaring lions. He passed it to McGonagall gently who used it to dab her watering eyes.

Professor McGonagall’s voice trembled as she continued “That’s not all, Albus. They’re saying he tried to kill the Potters’ daughter, Hope. But - he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Hope Potter, Voldemort’s power was destroyed - and that’s why he’s gone.”

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

“It’s- It’s  _ true?”  _ McGonagall faltered, “After all he’s done… all the people he’s killed.. He couldn’t kill a little girl? It’s just astounding...of all things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Hope survive?”

Dumbledore hummed, “We can only guess. We may never know.”

McGonagall took a shaky breath and dabbed her eyes again. Dumbledore gave a great sniff and raised his wrist, pulling the sleeve of his cloak back to reveal an odd, golden watch. The watch had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. Dumbledore nodded at the watch, seemingly understanding it before lowering it again “Hagrid’s late. I suppose it was he who told you I’d be here, by the way?”

“Yes,” said Professor McGonagall, “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me  _ why _ you’re here, of all places?”

“I’ve come to bring Hope to her aunt and uncle. They’re the only family she has left now.

“You’re  _ what? _ ” McGonagall demanded sharply, “You don’t mean- you can’t mean the people who live  _ here _ ? You couldn’t find two people who are less like us. And they’ve got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the streets screaming for sweets! Hope Potter to come and live here? Dumbledore, I must insist you place Hope with someone else. What about Mr Black and Lupin?”

“It’s the best place for her,” Dumbledore said firmly, “Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she’s older. I’ve written them a letter.”

“A letter? A  _ letter _ ?” McGonagall repeated faintly “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all of this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She’ll be famous - a legend - I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a Hope Potter Day in the future. There will be books written about her, every child in our world will know her name!”

“Exactly.” Dumbledore said, staring at McGonagall over the top of his half-moon glasses. McGonagall stared at him, before turning away with a huff.

“I suppose you’re right… But how  _ is  _ the girl getting here, Dumbledore?” She eyed his cloak as though he might be hiding Hope under it.

“Hagrid’s bringing her.”

“Do you think it’s  _ wise _ to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?”

“I would trust Hagrid with my life.”

A low, rumbling sound broke the silence around them. The sound grew louder and louder causing them to look up and down the street curiously. Dumbledore nudged McGonagall gently with his elbow and pointed to the clear, November sky. A blinding light spread across the dark street. The rumbling sound swelled to roar and, suddenly, a huge motorbike fell out of the sky and landed on the road in front of them. The motorbike screeched to a halt in front of them. If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting inside of it. He was almost twice as tall as Dumbledore and at least five times as wide. Long thin, tangles of bushy, black hair and his beard hid most of his face. He had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feets in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast muscular arms, he was holding a bundle of blankets.

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore said, sounding relieved, “At last. And where did you get that motorbike?” 

“Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” Hagrid’s voice was surprisingly gentle for someone who looked so  _ wild.  _ The giant climbed carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black lent it to me, he seemed a bit rumpled, sir. Poor bloke. Anyways, I’ve got her, sir”

“No problems, were there?”

“No, sir- house was almost destroyed but I got her out all right before Muggles started swarmin’ around. She fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall leant forward over the soft bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet black hair, there was a curiously shaped cut.

“Is that where-” McGonagall whispered.

“Yes.” Dumbledore said. “She’ll have that scar forever.”

McGonagall raised a pale, shaking hand, McGonagall lifted the tuft of hair. She and Hagrid gasped. Starting from the top left of her head, a jagged cut crossed her forehead to the middle-right. The largest cut separated into smaller cuts making it seem as if lightning had struck against her tanned skin.

McGonagall let the thick hair drop back into place before turning to Dumbledore. “Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t” Dumbledore reached out his arms towards Hagrid who gently placed Hope into them. Dumbledore lifted the tuft of hair back before tracing the scar gently with a long, crooked finger. “Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground.”

Dumbledore turned away and started to walk towards the house marked  _ Number 4 _ . McGonagall and Hagrid followed; McGonagall silently, Hagrid sniffling and shivering.

The three adults reached the porch of  _ Number 4 _ , the white door illuminated by a single light.

“Could I- Could I say goodbye to her, sir?” Hagrid asked. He bent his great, shaggy head over Hope and gave her what must’ve been a tickly kiss. Then, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

“ _ Shhh! _ ” McGonagall hissed, quickly glancing at the other houses on the street, “You’ll wake the muggles!”

“S-s-sorry.” Hagrid sobbing, taking out a large white handkerchief and buried his face in it. “But I c-c-can’t stand i t- Lily an’ James dead - an’ poor little Hope off ter live with Muggles-”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip of yourself, Hagrid, or we’ll be found.” Professor McGonagall whispered hurriedly, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm.

Dumbledore bent down and laid Hope gently on the doorstep. He took a letter out of the pocket of his cloak, tucked it inside the bundle of blankets and came back to the other two. All three of them stood there in silence, staring at the little bundle. Hagrid’s shoulders shook violently, McGonagall blinked furiously and the ever-lasting twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to have dimmed significantly. After a minute or so had passed, Dumbledore coughed.

“Well,” he spoke, “that’s that. We’ve no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.” 

“Yeah,” Hagrid said in a very muffled voice. “I’d best return this bike back to young Sirius Black.” He tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket “G’night Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir.”

Hagrid turned and thumped back to the motorbike. He swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine to life. With a roar, it rose into the air and into the night.

“I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall.” said Dumbledore. She blew her nose in reply. 

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the ordinary corner, he stopped and took out the silver cigarette lighter. He clicked it once and all twelve balls of light sped back to the lampposts. The street glowed orange and Dumbdore could make out a tabby cat slinking onto a sign that read  _ Privet Drive.  _ He could also see a bundle of blankets resting on the doorstep of number 4.

“Good luck, Hope Potter,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and, with a quiet  _ crack _ , he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky November sky. This ordinary street was the very last place you would expect something astonishing to happen, for someone spectacular to live. Hope Potter shivered slightly before rolling over in her small nest of blankets. Her chubby, rosy hand clutched onto the thick letter beside her. She slept on, not knowing something astonishing had happened that night, not knowing  _ she _ was the spectacular person living on the street. She slept on, and on, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs Dursley’s scream. She didn’t know she would spend the next few weeks being pinched and punched by her cousin Dudley. She couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and celebrating in hushed voices: “To Hope Potter - the girl who lived!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters will be MUCH longer. There's also a reason I decided to put this before the Dursley's introductions. Hope you stick around!


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